I'm not mad.
Of course, I'm not. I can't linger in anger at you too long. As difficult as that makes resolve, I don't resent it. I like how I soften concerning you. I appreciate that I have to work hard to harden when it comes to you.
It says so much about my growth and the condition of my heart.
I am disappointed.
I know we're so much more creative than this cliche shit.
I am sad.
I believed you to be my person. That's wild. I know. Presumptuous? I know. Humorously optimistic? I know. I know.
I'm sitting here thinking about what I want to say. What I want to hear. And Liz Gilbert’s words come to mind:
"I want, I want, I want—there it is again: the ferocious drumbeat of the ego, pounding away within the blistering furnace of the self. While meanwhile the truth remains standing in the center of the room—patient and timeless—gazing at me with maddening indifference, waiting for me to address it at last. So. Let us surrender now and address that truth."
There are so many truths fighting for acknowledgement. Which should take center stage? Yours? Mine? Hmmmm.
In this moment, the most generous interpretation I can give to the both of us is this:
We are two people who like and enjoy each other. Between us there's care, joy, and some budding iteration of love. And as much as we want to be in each other's lives, right now, that's too painful. Too complicated. So, we are releasing this connection. We wish each other all the best. This is more bitter than sweet, but that's okay. We'll be okay.
Love you, "Elijah John."
Like you too.
